


In Upton House

by NammiKisulora



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Episode 181: Igorance, M/M, Upton House (The Magnus Archives), but also love and cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26949712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NammiKisulora/pseuds/NammiKisulora
Summary: Jon isn't doing well in Upton House.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 18
Kudos: 175





	In Upton House

**Author's Note:**

> T for a tiny, inconsequential sexual reference.

The first day after waking up in Upton House is fine. Discovering he can’t compel Salesa to tell him anything is… disconcerting, to say the least, but he’s feeling – fine. And Martin is happy, so very, very happy to get to sleep and eat and shower, and Jon can’t begrudge him this even though there is a gnawing sense of unease in the back of his mind.

They spend the day strolling in the garden and napping in the huge, comfortable bed, and with his face buried in the crook of Martin’s neck, Jon actually does enjoy the break.

“I love you”, he whispers. “I love you so much, whatever happens, I love you.” And Martin’s smile is beautiful, more beautiful even than the sun that still shines over this tiny oasis out of the Eye’s sight.

“I love you too”, Martin whispers back, and Jon does his best to ignore the fear growing in his belly.

-

The next morning, Martin showers first. Jon stays in bed for a minute or two, looking out the window, before he gets up… and immediately has to sit back down because the room spins around him, black spots dancing in front of his eyes. His mouth is dry and his heart pounds against his ribcage, the spot where two ribs are missing aching in a way it hasn’t in a long time.

By the time Martin gets back, smiling and freshly shaven, with hair still dripping onto the towel slung around his shoulders, Jon has collected himself enough that he can force a small smile and give Martin a quick kiss on the cheek before he goes to take his turn in the shower.

The water is hot and wonderful, but Jon shivers as he leans against the wall. It’s only going to get worse, he knows it is – knows, not Knows, which by now has lost its initial sweetness and only feeds the terrifying gulf of nothing where he usually finds infinite knowledge of… everything. _Martin needs to rest,_ he tells himself. _He needs time, and I will give it to him. We’ll stay here and rest a while, maybe it won’t be that bad._ But even as he thinks it, he knows it’s a lie.

Most of the day is fine, though. Jon can hide the momentary dizziness that will hit him when he least expects it, and if he zones out during conversations, it’s easy to blame it on being distracted by the sheer _normality_ of it all. The sun, the birds, books, _tea_. They even share a bottle of wine at dinner, tucked away in a little corner of the library after declining Salesas offer to dine with him.

The light buzz from the alcohol actually makes him less dizzy, somehow, and for an hour or two that evening, Jon manages to almost forget the Eye and the hell the world has become in favour of enjoying Martin’s playful teasing and palpable relief at being here. Before they go to sleep, Martin even instigates a tickle war that quickly turns into a pillow fight… and when Jon takes a pillow square in the face because he forgot what he was supposed to be doing, it’s easy to blame it on the wine.

Falling asleep is harder, though, and Jon lies awake for a long time, listening to Martin’s deep, slow breaths. _I love you_ , Jon thinks, _I love you so much it hurts, and for you, I will endure anything._ But there is a sick feeling twisting in his belly, whispering of the longing, the _need_ for knowledge he knows must be sated, and soon. Or else… He wraps himself around Martin, holding him as close as he dares without risking to hurt or wake him. _You are my reason_ , he thinks as he finally falls asleep.

-

It’s wonderful, being here. Outside, they don’t actually need to sleep or eat, but Martin has missed both something awful. One consequence of the perpetual sleeplessness is that he never feels quite rested either, but after their three day nap and a few regular nights’ sleep, he does. And it’s _wonderful_ , he muses as the water slides over his face, the hot water nearly causing his knees to go week over how good it feels.

When he returns to Jon, after an extra long shower and a very nice wank, Jon is still lying in the exact same position as Martin left him in. He’s facing the window, and at first Martin thinks he must’ve gone back to sleep, but when he climbs onto the bed to wake him, he sees that Jon’s eyes are open, staring vacantly at nothing. That is… worrying, but when Martin touches his shoulder, Jon immediately snaps out of – whatever it was and smiles.

“Hey”, he says. “Nice shower?” He rolls over and pulls Martin in for a kiss, threading his hands through his hair.

“Yeah. Jon, your hands are freezing!” Martin takes them between his own and tries to rub some warmth into them, and Jon doesn’t protest. “You feeling alright?”

“I’m fine.”

-

Salesa is a very entertaining host, Martin has to admit. Jon doesn’t seem to like him much, though, so they keep mostly to themselves. Sometimes they see Annabelle skulking around, but she always scuttles off before Martin has a chance to talk to her. Despite the slight unease her presence gives him, he mostly manages to put it out of his mind and enjoy the chance to relax and recover. The first two days, images from the domains they’ve travelled through kept intruding on the peace he felt here, and he couldn’t quite escape the guilt of being here, in a tiny bubble of (relative) safety while seven billion people where out there, still in agony.

Then, after waking from a nightmare of blood and mud and burning, he very firmly decided to stop thinking about it. He knows this reprieve is a temporary one, but damnit, he’s earned it!

Jon though… Martin remembers his excitement at not knowing anything about this place with a pang of wistfulness, because Jon is not happy here. He’s doing his best to hide it, but Martin can sense his discomfort any time Annabelle or Salesa is around, and he never quite seems to relax like Martin does. It is wonderful to see him sleep, though. His cuddly instincts have apparently survived the end of the world intact, and Martin loves waking in the middle of the night with Jon wrapped all around him like a warm, heavy cat.

-

The morning sun is shining through the window, and Martin smiles at something in his sleep; a tiny, sweet smile that Jon thought he would never get to see again. Jon is watching him, love contending with the aching emptiness that is used to holding all the knowledge in the world. The drawn look, the worry-lines that have appeared on Martin’s face since the change, have all but disappeared, and it makes Jon’s heart clench. All he can give Martin is… well, the unending horror out there, because soon, very soon, they will have to leave. Jon sighs and leans his forehead against Martin’s bare shoulder, relishing the feeling of soft, warm skin against his clammy brow.

It’s getting harder to keep track of conversations, and his thoughts are becoming sluggish and muddled. Last night, he nearly fainted in the kitchen while Martin was making sandwiches for them; one moment he was measuring out just the right amount of sugar for Martin’s tea and the next he was kneeling on the floor, the shattered remains of the cup strewn around him.

“Oh my god, Jon, are you okay?” Martin had asked as he helped him back to his feet, eyes wide and worried, and Jon hadn’t even had the presence of mind to lie and brush it off as nothing.

How can it be a mere week since they found this place? Five days since they woke up after catching up on weeks, maybe months without sleep… It feels like an eternity to him, the hollow ache for knowledge growing by the second. He remembers the excitement of not knowing something, the joy at finally getting to discover something again, and he hates himself for nearly wishing they had gone around it. _Martin needs this_ , he tells himself. _Martin deserves this chance to rest._ _One more day, just one more. Maybe two._

“Hey, beautiful”, a sleep-rough voice suddenly murmurs into his ear, and Jon flinches. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” Jon blinks and rubs his face against Martin’s shoulder.

“N-no, no, it’s all right, I – I just…” he trails off, having no idea what he wanted to say in the first place. He can feel rather than see Martin frown as he plants a kiss on Jon’s forehead.

-

Jon isn’t well. They take a walk in the garden before lunch, but Jon has to tell Martin he needs to stop and rest after less than ten minutes. He’s out of breath and sweating, but when he leans against Martin on the bench they found beneath a blooming rosebush, he’s shivering like he’s cold.

“How’re you doing?” Martin asks, but Jon doesn’t answer. He’s staring into space again, eyes glazed and lips moving silently. “Hey, Jon?” Martin squeezes his hand, and Jon blinks before sitting up straight again.

“Mm, what? You want to keep going?”

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” Martin brushes away a few stray locks of greying hair from Jon’s face and frowns when the smile Jon manages only comes out looking pinched and drawn.

“Yes. Let’s go to the pond again, I liked it there.”

“Sure.”

They get to the pond without any incidents, but Jon only stares blankly at the gently rippling surface when Martin tries to point out the colourful fish darting underneath it.

-

He holds out for another day and a half, avoiding Martin’s questions as best he can without outright lying. But Martin isn’t stupid, and Jon knows he’s figured out something isn’t right. But he’s still so – so _happy_ here, and Jon can’t bring himself to drag him out into what’s left of the world until he absolutely has to. He contemplates sneaking away alone a few times, but already before he finishes the thought he knows he can’t. Partly because he suspects – suspects, not Knows, but he’s sure enough – that Martin would only go looking for him, and partly because a selfish, very human part of him cannot bear the thought of leaving Martin behind. He knows he will have to – to offer him the opportunity to stay behind, but the choice still needs to be Martin’s.

The thought that Martin might actually choose to stay behind hurts. More than it should, Jon muses. He should want Martin to stay here, want him to be _safe_ , but the thought of continuing without him sends a blaze of pain through his core that eclipses even the constant hollow ache for the Eye.

So Jon endures, stubbornly dismissing the dizziness and increasing difficulty to keep track of what he’s doing and the conversations he fails to properly take part in, up until the moment he can’t.

Martin has made them scrambled eggs and toast, and two cups of lovely, fragrant tea stand steaming on the table. The sight of it turns Jon’s stomach; he’s hungrier than he’s ever been in his life – but not for food. He needs – he knows what he needs, and makes him feel even more sick. But he knows it’s time.

“Excuse me”, he mumbles and flees the room before Martin has time to ask what’s the matter. On the way back to their room, he has to stop and lean against the wall several times with his eyes closed to make the corridor stop spinning around him. He sits on the bed for what feels like hours but can’t be more than a few minutes, covering his face with trembling hands. He can’t stay here any longer, they need to go _now_. But how can he tell Martin that? How will he explain – here, cut off from the Eye’s power, his remaining humanity is suddenly very… intrusive. And right now it’s telling him that he’s a selfish bastard who can’t even keep it together for a few more days to let Martin rest some more.

He wonders how long he would actually last here; how long he’d have before he grew so weak he just… faded away. _Martin wouldn’t want that_ , he firmly tells himself. Then he takes a deep breath and starts packing.

-

When he finally steps our of Salesa’s bubble, it feels like the first breath of clean, crisp air after being trapped underground without ventilation until all the oxygen was all but gone. He drinks it down in deep, desperate gulps of putrid air, the Eye above once again filling him with its infinite knowledge laced with second hand terror and pain.

At first, the only thing he feels is relief. Martin trudges silently at his side, only occasionally casting wistful glances back the way they came. And then… then Jon feels the memories begin to slip away, like sand through an hourglass, every grain of peace lost making him stronger.

“Feeling better?” Martin asks at last, and Jon can’t lie to him, even if a part of him wishes he could – wishes they could’ve stayed, that they _had_ , whatever the cost.

“Um… yeah, I’m afraid I am.”

And just like that, the final grains of memory from Upton House dissolves like mist.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Kudos and comments are the best thing in the world <3
> 
> Feel free to talk to me on tumblr @ [NammiKisulora](https://nammikisulora.tumblr.com/)!


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